Chapter 4: Jennifer Chancelor, Friday

There was a really loud silence around the table after Dad left for work that Friday morning. Bonnie and I were finished eating so we stood up and started tidying away the breakfast things.

Mum stirred and looked at me. I could tell she was about to ask a question, so I cut her off.

“Just don’t, okay?” I said rather forcibly. “I’m not ready to talk about it so don’t even start.”

“There’s no call to talk to me like that,” she snapped back at me.

So I got in her face and screamed at her to sit down and shut up.

Well you could count the number of times I’ve screamed at Mum like that on the fingers of one hand and still have fingers left over. I never expected it to work but Mum sort of blinked and then slid down into her chair, shaking her head.

She sat there and looked down at her half-eaten toast. Something told me she didn’t feel like eating. She looked shaken. I can’t remember ever seeing her so shaken up. I didn’t feel very sympathetic.

I looked over at Bonnie. “Come on, get your things. It’s time we headed off.”

Bonnie had watched all that with her very sharp little eyes. She didn’t say anything, but I knew I was going to hear all about it as soon as we were out the door.

We grabbed our lunches out of the fridge and together we walked out of the kitchen without saying our usual goodbyes to Mum. In my room, I put my lunch into my schoolbag and slung the schoolbag over my back.

Bonnie came out of her room about the same time I came out of mine. She had her little schoolbag over her back.

“Have you got your reading book in there?” I asked. She nodded.

“What about your maths? Did you get it all done? Is it in there?” She nodded again.

I smiled and put my arm around her.

“Come on then, squirt. Let’s get out of here.”

Before leaving the house, I poked my head back into the kitchen. Mum was still sitting at the table.

“Estelle!” I said sharply. Mum jumped. “Shouldn’t you be heading off to work?”

Mum practically leapt out of her chair and started cleaning up her dishes. She looked confused, like she didn’t know what was going on.

As soon as we closed the front door, Bonnie opened her mouth, ready to start asking questions. I put my finger over her mouth and said “Shhh!”

She closed her mouth and turned. Together we walked down the path and out of our front gate. School is about 15 minutes away from our house if you walk, so we would have plenty of time for her to give me the grilling that I knew was coming.

Bonnie waited until we’d turned the first corner before she lit into me.

“So what’s going on between Mum and Dad?” she said, walking sideways so she could look at me as she talked. “You know what’s going on, I know you do. I bet something happened at your dinner party last night. I wanted to be there but Mum wouldn’t let me. She said it would be too late for me on a school night.”

“She was right about that part,” I said. “It was too late for you. You were fast asleep by the time Dad got home.”

“It’s not fair. I could’ve stayed awake if I was up.”

“I know it wasn’t fair, squirt. But we couldn’t help how late Dad was going to be after his meeting.”

Bonnie sighed.

“You looked so pretty in that dress and with your hair up and everything,” said Bonnie. “Even Mum looked okay,” she added grudgingly. “I would have liked to get dressed up.”

“You’ll get a chance to do that on Saturday. Dad’s taking us to the club on Emmerton Lake for dinner on Saturday evening. We’ll all get dressed up for that. That new dress we got for you is gorgeous.”

Bonnie sighed and nodded.

“You really got stuck into Dad this morning,” I said. “I didn’t realise you were so angry at Mum. Do you really think he should divorce her?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe. The problem is that you and Dad put up with so much shit. You’re always so calm about things. It takes an awful lot to get either of you angry so Mum tramples over both of you and you act like you don’t care. This morning was the first time I’ve ever seen you angry at Mum. I’m not like that. Mum does stuff and I get mad straight away and I can’t hold it in like you. So I end up getting into trouble with Mum and then she bullies Dad into taking her side. I hate it. I hate her.”

I sighed and draped my arm over her shoulders. What could I say? In a way she was right.

“But Mum isn’t like that all the time,” I said eventually. “A lot of the time you two get on okay.”

Bonnie walked for a moment before she grudgingly said, “Yeah.”

We walked in silence for a bit further.

“So what did happen last night that finally got Dad angry?” she asked. “It must’ve been pretty big.”

“I really don’t want to talk about it,” I told her. “I’m still kind of upset. Can you wait?”

Bonnie spun around and stood in my way, forcing me to stop. She was staring up into my face.

“It was about you. Mum did something to you. Dad’s angry because Mum upset you or hurt you or something. That would be something to make Dad angry. She didn’t hit you, did she?”

I shook my head. Bonnie frowned in concentration.

“I don’t get it. It was your birthday. Why would Mum deliberately hurt you on your birthday? Wait! Did she promise you something as a birthday present and then break her promise? Did she make Dad tell you that you couldn’t have it? I’m right, aren’t I?”

Damn I hate having a smart sister. I was standing there in the middle of the path and about to burst into tears again while she figured everything out by staring into my face.

“It must’ve been something big, like, I don’t know. Like a car, or ... or university, or ... or a fancy holiday, or ... or I don’t know, something big like that. But Dad wouldn’t leave it until your birthday to tell you bad news. That doesn’t make sense. Unless he didn’t know.”

She gasped and her eyes went wide.

“He didn’t know, did he?”

She looked at me. I didn’t answer. She took that as a yes.

“He didn’t know and Mum promised you and got you all excited and then she sprung it on Dad last night and he had to be the one to tell you they couldn’t afford it or whatever. And he hates surprises. Oh My God, what a bitch! I hate her. I hate her.”

Bonnie was yelling by that stage and I had tears running down my face. I pulled her into me and hugged her hard – partly to stop her talking so she wouldn’t make me cry even more.

As soon as Bonnie realised she’d made me cry, she became all contrite – squirming out of my hold and apologising over and over. She pulled me over to the low brick wall beside the path and made me sit. Then she pulled my head into her chest, still saying “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” over and over.

A girl from our school who’d been walking a bit behind us came up, saying “Are you okay? Is there anything I can do?”

I pulled my face out of Bonnie’s chest and shook my head at the girl, wiping my face with my hands. I half recognised her from around school, but I didn’t know her name.

“You’re Jen Chancelor, aren’t you?” she asked. “In Year 12?”

I nodded.

“I have a little packet of tissues in here,” she continued. “Let me get them for you.”

A couple of other girls, clearly sisters, came up while she was hunting through her backpack. Judging by their uniforms they were from our school too. I didn’t recognise them at all, but one was in high school and the other was in primary – obviously younger than Bonnie, The first girl waved them off, saying “It’s okay. She just got a bit upset. She’ll be okay.”

The two sisters made considerate sorts of comments and then continued down the path.

“Here you are, tissues,” said the girl as she handed over a little packet. “You can keep it. My dad gets them by the carton because my brother and I both get allergies. Hope you feel better soon.”

She swung her bag back onto her back and started walking away.

“Hey!” called out Bonnie.

The girl stopped and looked back.

“What’s your name?” asked Bonnie.

“Betty,” said the girl. “Betty Laski. I’m in Year 10.”

“Thanks Betty,” said Bonnie.

“No worries,” said Betty. “See you ‘round. Take care.” Then she turned and started walking again.

I used a couple of tissues to clean up my face and tucked the remainder of the packet into the pocket of my school dress.

“I’m sorry,” said Bonnie. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“I know, Bon. It’s okay.”

Bonnie was still looking guilty so I decided to distract her.

“Hey Bon. Can you keep a secret?” I asked.

Bonnie looked offended. “Of course.”

I pulled on the necklace and showed her the ring that had been hidden under my dress.

Bonnie gasped. “Is that Dad’s wedding ring?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit!” said Bonnie. “I didn’t really mean it about them getting divorced.”

She reached out and ran her fingers over the smooth gold ring.

“He said he doesn’t want a divorce and I believe him,” I said, trying to sound reassuring. “But he took his ring off and gave it to me to look after.”

“What does that mean? Why would he take off his ring if he doesn’t want a divorce? Why would he give it to you?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, Bon. I’m not sure that Dad really knows. When I asked him why he gave this to me, he went all squirmy and changed the subject.”

I tucked the ring back down inside my dress and stood up with a sigh.

“We better keep moving or we’ll be late.”

We walked in silence for a while until we came to the main road. We said hi to old Mr Lappert, the crossing supervisor as we crossed the road. Then we turned and walked past the church.

Bonnie pointed at the sign out the front. “Cool! The church fete is coming up soon. That was fun last year.”

We chatted about that for a bit as we went past the park between the church and the school. By that time we were surrounded by girls of all ages either walking to school or getting out of their parents’ cars. A bus was pulling up at the stop ready to disgorge its contents.

I walked Bonnie along to the entrance for the Primary section of ELC and waved her goodbye. She gave me a wave and trotted off through the doors, already chatting with some of her friends.

Then I doubled back and walked over to the High School part of ELC.

Emmerton Ladies College (ELC) is pretty big for a school in a country town. It has girls from Prep to Year 12 (so ages from 5 to 18). It’s a private school so you have to pay to go there but the school gives out quite a few scholarships that are sponsored by local churches or businesses or whatever. Lots of girls get driven in or bussed in from nearby towns or from the farms in the district. There are even a small number of boarders during term who live in a set of units along the edge of the property.

Boys have to go the other way to Emmerton Boys Grammar at the other end of town. There are three state primary schools and a state secondary school here but none of them are very big and apparently they aren’t very good.

ELC is a non-denominational Christian school, which is a fancy way of saying that all the different local churches support it and they keep the religion part simple and not too intrusive. It’s a great school and I’ve been happy there. It’s not the place to go if you want to meet boys, though.

Being in Year 12 means that I’m studying for my HSC (Higher School Certificate) which I need for entry into college or university. It’s pretty full on so I had to do my best to put aside my home issues and concentrate on my classes during the day. I used up most of that little packet of tissues during the day, though.

During the recess break, I dropped in to the school office and spoke to the office assistant.

“Hi Miss Drake. Can you do me a favour?”

“Sure Jen. What’s on your mind?”

“Could you look up Betty Laski in Year 10 and tell me who her mentor is?”

Each of us in Year 12 is a mentor to a group of girls from different year levels. We get a 20 minute time slot together as a group at the end of each day to help the girls get started on their homework or talk about issues or whatever. We’re also someone for them to talk to anytime during the day if they have some problem they can’t deal with.

Miss Drake tapped away at her computer. “Betty Laski is in P5, so that would be Helen Marr.”

“Oh. Okay, thanks.”

I hunted down Helen which wasn’t hard because she’s about a head taller than any other girl in the school so she tends to stand out.

“Hey Jen, what’s up?”

“I wanted to put in a good word for one of the girls you mentor, Betty Laski.”

“Okay.”

“I was a bit upset this morning on the way to school and she stopped to help me out. It was a really nice thing for her to do.”

“I’ll give her a pat on the back. What about you? Are you okay now?”

I shrugged. “I’m dealing. My parents are in the middle of a huge fight. You know how it is.”

“Yeah! Don’t I ever. I’m looking forward to your party. See you tonight?”

“Sure Helen. See you there.”

I also caught up with Hannah and told her she was invited over for dinner some time in the next week as a makeup for having to miss my party. She was pretty happy about that and we promised to call each other and settle on a day once she’d checked with her parents.

During lunch I had training for the soccer team. I went back to the office at the start of lunch.

“Hey Miss Drake, it’s me again.”

“Hi Jen. What can I do for you this time?”

“Can I give you something to lock in your drawer during lunch. It’s a valuable necklace and I’m not allowed to wear jewellery during sport. There’s no way I want to leave it in the changing room.”

She smiled at me and handed me a little envelope. “Sure. Put your name on the envelope and put the necklace inside.”

I put my name on the envelope and unfastened the chain, dropping it and the ring into the envelope. I folded the envelope closed and handed it to Miss Drake. She smiled again and put the envelope away in the drawer beside her without making any further comment.

Having a run around on the soccer field during lunch helped to clear my head a bit, so I was feeling a bit better when I went back into the office at the end of lunch. I collected the envelope with my name on it and carefully refastened the chain around my neck.

“A man’s wedding band on a necklace,” said Miss Drake, leaning against the counter so she could talk quietly to me. “I bet there’s a story there.”

“It’s my Dad’s,” I said frowning down at it. “My parents had a huge fight last night and Dad took it off and told me to hold it. I’m worried that they’re going to get divorced.”

“Darl,” said Miss Drake. “In my experience men getting a divorce tend to take off their ring and throw it in the back of a drawer or throw it off a bridge or something. I’m thinking he’s sending a message to somebody by taking his ring off and giving it to you to look after. It’s pretty strong symbolism. Your mother will get the message loud and clear.”

“Oh! What message is that?”

“Was their fight something to do with you?” I nodded. “And your old man was taking your side?”

I shrugged. “Sort of. In a way. He thought he was, anyway.”

“Well I don’t know for sure, but I’m guessing the message is that your mum shouldn’t make him choose between her and you because he’ll choose you. He has this time, anyway.”

“Oh!” I frowned down at the ring and then tucked it back inside my dress.

“Jen darlin’,” said Miss Drake. “Don’t you go giving that ring back until you’re happy with the outcome. Your old man has given you a powerful weapon. Use it wisely.”

“Huh!” I said, looking thoughtfully at Miss Drake. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Jen. Anytime.”

The afternoon lessons kind of dragged a bit – especially the maths class. My late night was catching up with me. I spent most of my mentor group time helping one of my Year 9 girls with her trigonometry assignment. Year 9 maths I can do. It’s Year 12 maths that I’m struggling with.

At the end of school I loaded up my bag and walked down to the Primary School. I got there just as they were all being let out. They deliberately let the High School out 10 minutes earlier so that older girls like me can meet our younger sisters as they come out of the Primary School.

A horde of little girls came running out through the big doorway. I stood there and waited, and soon enough Bonnie emerged from the pack and trotted up to me.

We said “Hey” to each other and I immediately started walking. Bonnie skipped beside me, waving and calling out “Bye” to her friends. Once she ran out of friends to wave to, she started a rapid rundown of all the events of her day. I let her talk, knowing it was fairly pointless to interrupt her. When Bon gets started talking, she sometimes forgets to breathe – it seems that way, anyway.

When she seemed to have run out of things to say, I broke in. “So, have you got any homework?”

“Yeah. Some maths and some spelling and I have to write and illustrate a story exactly one page long. Illustrate means draw at least two pictures to go with the story. It’s not allowed to go even one word over the page. It’s not fair. I like writing long stories.”